


The Hand That Feeds

by scandalous



Series: Season of Kink 2019 [16]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Priests, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Catholic Guilt, Dry Humping, Internalized Homophobia, Masochism, Nonbinary Character, Other, Priest!Chase, Vampire!House
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:50:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scandalous/pseuds/scandalous
Summary: Chase's shame doesn't stop him from wanting that creature he knows as House.





	The Hand That Feeds

**Author's Note:**

> for seasonofkink with the square bloodplay.
> 
> vampire house is hot yall can't @ me
> 
> enjoy!

Chase is looking over his Bible, fingers heavy against those thin pages, searching for that verse that has ruined his life. It's not that verse's fault, no, it has never been fault of the word of God— but how people interpret it and translate it into their own beliefs. He's trying to focus, to wallow in his own guilt, when the man he has been with goes up to him and starts kissing his neck. 

He's more of a creature than a man, anyhow. As his fangs nibble right against his skin, threatening to rip right in, suck him dry, leave him tended and wounded and grasping weakly at life. As his eyes glint with that predatory shine, that warning of he is a beast. And Chase— well, he never listened. He pulled right in, kissed him like mad. 

"Father Chase," House says lowly, a hand wrapping around his midriff, still wrapped in that priest garb House hates oh so much. "C'mon, stop looking at your Bible."

Chase shakes his head a little, but lets him hold him, his crotch right against his rear. The pages are still thin, but they're heavier as he gets closer. And there it is, every little word spelling out doom in the future for him. He ignores it. He tries to ignore it, at least, even as he has the urge to turn around and go to another church, kneel at a confessional and beg for forgiveness. 

He's not supposed to be with this man, with this creature, whatever he is. Once he had expressed this to House, and he had simply scoffed, his nose twitching as he looked at him.  _ After five-hundred years, gender stops making much sense. Pretend I'm a woman, if you'd like. I don't feel like a human man, anyway.  _

But it's hard to pretend that he’s anything close to feminine, House's hands calloused and large, wrapping around him with ease— House's beard scraping up right against his throat, making him shudder. The vulnerability doesn't help, the sensation of  _ he could kill me right now but he has chosen not to. _ He doesn't know if it's a good sensation, considering House is a killing-machine and yet he doesn't kill him. 

"Could I feed off you?" House asks right against the crook of his neck, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Chase pulls a face. "House—" he starts. 

"I won't turn you," he promises lowly. "I won't dry you up. You just smell too damn good."

He bites his lip. It's too much trust for him. It's too much— House could simply not stop if he didn't want too, liking the taste of his blood far too much, wouldn't stop until he was twitching on the floor, gasping for air. 

But maybe he won't. Maybe it'll be just a meal. 

He closes his eyes and holds onto the pulpit, his Bible still open on that page. He reaches to close it, not wanting to have that bore into his eyes as his lover feeds off him. He tries to think of it as feeding a normal person, handing House strawberries, having him eat from his hand.

"You can," he says. 

House hums as he slowly goes down his neck right into the sweet spot, that bit in the middle of it full of that precious nectar for creatures such as him.  _ The jugular, _ he thinks right when House sinks his fangs in. 

He makes a little noise— the pain is not as overwhelming as he imagined. And with the things House has done to him, he knows he's not one to run away from pain. He accepts it, sinks into it gladly.

"Oh," he breathes. "O-oh, House."

“Mm?” he asks, still digging his fangs deeper in, sucking blood right out of him. After a few moments, he pulls away, letting out a sigh of pleasure. “Your blood is as exquisite as I pictured it, Chase.”

Chase can feel House’s hard-on right against his rear as he grinds up against him, moaning softly as he does so.

“House…” he breathes out, turning around. He sees his fangs, covered in blood, that smug little smile on his lips. And seeing his blood in that smile, the way he looks at him like he’s prey, well— it makes him weak on the knees.

Before he can stop himself, he’s throwing himself at House, moaning as he kisses him, those fangs teasing at his lips, that blood almost flooding his senses. The metallic taste makes him a little dizzy, clinging onto House for all he’s worth as they make out, grinding up against him desperately.

“Oh, God,” he breathes. He’ll feel bad about calling for God in moments like this, grinding against a beast, a killing machine, a vampire. But right now he doesn’t care. Right now all he wants is House to pull him right against the pulpit, slide the Bible off it as he fucks him without any mercy, without any stop.

Vampires have unlimited stamina, he had said once, smiling at him cheekily.

Well, all he wants now is for House to take advantage of that little perk of being a beast. He moans into his mouth once again, still tasting his own blood, the way it floods his senses making him all that more weak with want. He knows his blood has that exact same effect on House, with the way he grows more and more excited, rubbing off against him like the untamed beast he is.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you,” he says shakily as House leans his head down to lick at his neck once again.

House laughs, a cruel chuckle that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Oh, I’m biting it all I want,” he says as he sinks his teeth right in.

Chase can’t exactly complain, no, twitching underneath him and moaning softly, eyes rolling back as he keeps bleeding, as House keeps feeding. No, he really can’t complain when he  _ loves  _ it, as much as he deserves to apologize to God for this all. Maybe he’ll do it when he’s less drunk on the pain, on his own blood, on House’s infernal touch. Maybe he won’t.

**Author's Note:**

> was the world ready for nonbinary house? no. but i did it anyway.
> 
> please kudo and/or comment if you enjoyed it!


End file.
